The Lake
by TidalDragon
Summary: Salvation comes in many forms.
**The Lake**

Summary: Salvation comes in many forms.

 _For SlytherinChica08's Gift-It Challenge_

Rating: 15+  
Categories: Action/Adventure  
Warnings: Mild Violence  
Major Characters: OC, Other Canon  
Pairings: None

CHAPTER 1: Quest

The constant lightning seemed to turn night into day as the small band of men moved, starving and sodden through the last of the sparse trees before them. To the last man, they knew this land only as the Final Forest. What they knew not was what awaited them in the uncharted waters beyond. Legend told that the Great Wolf had once, in his Stride, surveyed to this end of his earthly creation and under a full moon stared out into the same blackness they found before them. Yes, the Great Wolf himself had stared into the yawning emptiness and turned away, choosing not to venture toward the horrors that might lie beyond. Another world? Another plane? If a god himself had chosen not to, what fools were they to plow forward?

Alas, the King had ordered it, claiming it had come to him in a vision as he slept. He had, he proclaimed, stood at the edge of the forest and found the mountains giving way not to emptiness, but to a dark sea. On the shore the Great Wolf waited, then howled, sprinting into the water. The King had followed with haste, fearful of what the drowning of one of their most venerated deities in his dreams might mean. Upon arriving he had waded, clad in his finest armor into the frigid water, searching its depths. When at last he relented in his search, he discovered that his sight had been enhanced, so much so that across immeasurable distance he could see the Protector was not lost, but bathed in golden light. There was land, rich with nature's bounty across these dangerous depths.

Galan had misgivings. It seemed only too convenient that promises of a golden future across a sea about which most had only speculated would coincide with the King's waning influence among the Seven Kingdoms. But even in a time of weakness, the King could not be contradicted. So when he was ordered to assemble his best men to seek out this sea beyond the Final Forest, he did so promptly. Clad in their finest gear, armed with their strongest weapons, they set forth.

That was over a fortnight ago. Between the rugged terrain, ever-worsening weather, and the attendant difficulties with even overland navigation it had been a savage journey. Behind him, Galan heard grousing. He whipped around, hand on the pommel of his sword and glared at them, his turn punctuated by the crack of a bolt of lightning and another low ripple of thunder. The noise ceased and he looked a far upward as he could afford in the torrential downpour. _Gods be praised for blessing me with good fortune. Their speech must silence even the most strident dissenter._

As if in further response to his silent prayer, the group found themselves suddenly under a final, denser copse of trees beyond which he could make out what looked like water thanks to the storm's continued shows of force. Though the ground was not dry – how could it be after days of _this_ – it was better here. They could pause perhaps to sleep several hours and collect water for their continued journey. The command was never spoken, but the time taken to reason it out seemed enough to indicate Galan's intention to these men who knew him well. Immediately, it seemed to quicken their movements and brighten even the sternest visage amongst them. After assisting in their efforts, Galan found the sturdy tree at the back of his small tent and slumped against it. He closed his eyes. It would be time to move again soon.

He awoke to silence when it was still dark. The rain had ceased and even the sound of thunder had become too distant to hear. He felt the beginnings of an unsettling chill in his bones. _Gods be praised for blessing me with good fortune. By their will darkness can be made light, cold will turn to warmth, and the wet can be made dry._ He stood, feeling as though the words had been made true even if the reality was less definitive. Still, in his darkest hours, Galan always remembered his mother's words: _Believe my son. Trust their truth for it dwells within._

Slowly he arose, stepping out from underneath his simple shelter. He looked around. Where were his men? Ten he had taken with him for numbers were strength, yet too many were weakness for a mission such as this. And to have eleven, this was essential, for each man's righteous soul could beckon to a god, uniting the divine in their vigilance over the group for as long as they might be imperiled by threats both seen and unseen.

Galan heard the whisper: _walk to the water…great glory beckons._ This time his hand went to his grip. He spun around, searching for a source. _Walk to the water…great glory beckons._ It was sibilant yet soothing but still…

He drew his sword. "Make yourself known, spirit!" he commanded. The rustling of leaves in the swaying trees was his only answer.

Abandoning the copse, his eyes tracked immediately to the shore. They were nearly there. Walking stiffly, as if entranced. He thought of the voice. The Great Wolf may have overcome it, but a group of soldiers? This was the work of devils to be sure. Galan nearly lost his balance as he skittered won the slope as quickly as he could in his heavy armor. Should he shed it – even leave his sword – to reach them sooner? No. Who knew what evil awaited them in that abyss. Pressing on through the low brush, he spared a glance across the placid surface of the water. The land was too close. The body was vast, but there were not where they were meant to have gone. This was not a sea.

"Duncan!" he yelled. The most trusted of his men had waded in now, the dark liquid climbing his boots as he marched on blindly. The others followed shortly after, no sign of stopping despite Galan's desperate cries to each in turn.

 _Walk to the water…great glory beckons_.

He was so close now it almost felt…if almost felt as if the voice was in his very mind. He was tired. Following would be easier…but he shook his head. No. His eyes refocused just in time to see the others rapidly sucked down by some hidden force. Duncan seemed to awake as he came for him, struggling against it, but he was too far away. As he reached toward Galan, arm outstretched, a pale, clawed hand forced him completely under. Now Galan abandoned his armor as quickly as he could, though it was obvious he could not abandon his blade.

Voluntarily he submerged himself, swinging heavily and blindly as claws gripped at him as well. He heard a shrill scream, then another as they left him. He surfaced for air briefly. His soldiers' bodies were now faint shapes in the impenetrable depths. Before long they would be beyond saving.

Galan closed his eyes, feeling an uncharacteristic energy surge through him as claws gripped at him again, pulling him below as well. _Gods be praised for blessing me with this good fortune. By their power, though one may be lost in battle, their people shall be saved tenfold._

Galan felt strange. The claws had left him, but he no longer felt the oppression of held breath on his lungs. He swam deeper, clenching his eyes shut tightly. Had the gods truly granted him the ability to breathe in the lake where these demons dwelled? He flailed, but felt still more strangely. It was as if…he opened his eyes and could see clearly. He could breathe because he had become like the deep, like the Great Fish, and he reached out for each and every man who could see. The gods had granted him more than breath, they had granted him the means to save them. Surging forward he grabbed each one from the clutches of the monsters who'd taken them and tossed them up, up onto the shore. Duncan was the last he reached before he turned his attention to the malevolent creatures beneath him.

As he made to attack he realized they were in full retreat. Now he too could return. Now he too could surface. But as he tried, he found himself unable. He remembered his words to the gods, uncontrolled and earnest: _though one may be lost in battle, their people shall be saved tenfold_. It was as his mother had told him: _trust their truth for it dwells within. Trust them and all you ask for shall be given_.

He had asked for this. It was his sacrifice in exchange for their salvation.

He watched, peering out from beneath the surface as those he had saved fled in terror. He could not blame them. They would not be safe for long. Not with those things, their voices, lurking in these depths. If he was to stay here, stay as whatever it was he had become in this dark place, this black lake that had claimed how many souls – _who knew_ – he would have to protect them. Them and any others who might otherwise fall victim to those foul creatures' devilry.

 _Gods be praised for blessing me with this good fortune. By your grace the one shall save the many into time immemorial. Gods be praised_ …

 **A/N: Alright, so this is just a story that turned out really weird honestly that I wrote for 1917farmgirl. I originally intended it to follow more of a "legend" format as in Tales of Beedle the Bard, but it wasn't working that way so I tried to do something different. Hopefully in the end you came around to the fact that Galan actually** _ **became**_ **the Giant Squid that lives in the Black Lake – you know, the thing that some people are sort of scared of, but is rumored to also save people.**

 **How did it work? Well, needless to say Galan isn't from any recent time. He (and consequently the Giant Squid) are from the 2** **nd** **Century AD/CE. Galan was a military leader of sorts among one of the kingdoms of the people that inhabited the area (Northern Scotland) in which Hogwarts is located during that historical timeframe, the Picts. And while I wanted to be as historically accurate as possible and even through some legit language in there if I could, the Pictish language is unfortunately lost, but thought to actually be divorced from Scottish Gaelic, so I couldn't go that route, no matter how much I wanted.**

 **Also, Galan, though he didn't necessarily understand it, and viewed it more as a gift from the gods his people worshipped (again, no claim to historical accuracy as there's a lot of scholarly debate about Pict religion (except general agreement that they did worship** _ **something**_ **, most likely polytheistic in nature), but he was supposed to be an untrained sorcerer (as distinguished from wizards like in Dungeons and Dragons) from their ability to perform magic based on innate ability rather than learning (and in my incarnation, rather than with a wand). So there's that. If you look back through the story knowing that, hopefully you can see it. Oh. And obviously the creatures in the Black Lake are supposed to be grindylows. We don't really know that much about their abilities except they're water demons, so I figure the Founders could've deposited (or otherwise encouraged) the merpeople to keep them in check (along with Galan/the Giant Squid) and/or put spells up so their little siren singing act wouldn't work once students were around. Accpetable artistic license? You decide.**

 **Hopefully y'all (or at least its poor intended recipient :p) enjoyed it.**


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